Chapter Sixty: 'D' is for Division.

The funeral was short, well as short as most unofficial funerals held by kids were, not that there was even a scale that they could compare to.

The unexpected turf war had cut them short from twenty-four to eighteen, and they were now at the mercy of paying the big five ‘protection’ money.

But those were not the only unexpected changes. Davis hardly spoke, and one would think that Trie had cursed him, but worse was the state of the brain. All she did was draw maps and pathways. She would light up the areas where cameras could reach and highlight the blind spots. She hardly ate, hardly spoke, and since the war, she had not attended any more poetry lessons.

Betsy lost her right leg, and the group was now divided.

Everything was falling apart, and like water, it was impossible to scoop the mess.

“Belle, you should…” Rodrick approached the haggard mess in the corner of the common room, next to maps, papers and marking, th